Life is Like a Journey – Chapter 89
by Little PandaVolume 3: Transition
The Moon
While sixpence lay scattered all over the ground, he looked up and saw the moon
What she didn’t know was that when she gently closed the door, Lu Qingshi’s eyelids twitched.
She wasn’t completely unconscious; it was just that her injuries were too severe. After struggling in the cold, dark mire for four days, she finally opened her eyes one morning.
Early in the morning, when Gu Yanzhi walked into the hospital, she felt that something was off. Whether she passed through the ER or walked to the Neurology ICU, the way the medical staff looked at her was very… “that” (indicating something peculiar or noteworthy).
“Look, that’s Director Lu’s girlfriend. So tall and handsome! Yesterday, she took on ten people in the neurology ward with those moves…”
“Wow! Really! No wonder Director Lu has been single for so long, without any rumors. So that’s why… hehehe.”
“It’s too sad. If I’d known Director Lu liked women, I could have…”
Gu Yanzhi forced herself to keep a straight face, walking straight past with a cold expression until she reached the room. Surprisingly, all the security was gone, and she took a step forward, feeling a bit uneasy.
Hao Renjie caught up from behind, “Why are you just standing there?! Sister Lu woke up! Go see her!”
“Really?” She asked in disbelief, and after getting a confirmed answer, she suddenly turned around and buried her head against the wall.
Hao Renjie patted her on the shoulder, “What’s up with you?”
“No… I just…” Her voice had a hint of a choked sob: “I’m just happy… let me catch my breath.”
“Alright then, I’ll head in first.”
“She’s breathing on her own and her heart rate is back to normal, but she’ll still need to stay in the ICU for a while to be monitored,” the neurosurgeon said after giving her a full check-up, taking the stethoscope away from her chest.
Lu Qingshi could still only lie on the hospital bed. The clear liquid from the IV drip flowed into her body. In just a few days, she had lost weight, her eyes were sunken, her face was pale, and her gaze was a bit listless. She couldn’t speak yet, but she slightly nodded her head in thanks.
“Alright, Director Lu, get some rest. Press the bell if you need anything.”
A large group of people wheeled the ventilator out of the ward in a rush, and Gu Yanzhi quickly took a step back, just quietly watching her through the glass.
She had gotten thin, really thin. The blanket on her looked so light, you could hardly see her frame.
Her wrists were so slender, not even as thick as two of her fingers, and her once fair skin was covered with a dense array of needle marks.
Her cheekbones had sunken in, making her face look even smaller. The fine lines at the corners of her eyes had deepened, and her lips were dry and peeling. She was reduced to skin and bones.
Gu Yanzhi kept watching, and slowly, her eyes turned red with tears.
Lu Xucheng walked over and saw her expression. The young woman stood alone in the hallway, too afraid to take a step forward to open the door, yet unwilling to step back and leave. Her face showed a mix of extreme joy and heartache.
She was happy for Lu Qingshi’s awakening but also sad for her.
Leaning on a cane, Lu Xucheng gave a heavy cough. Gu Yanzhi took half a step back, slightly lowered her head, and watched as the caretaker helped him push open the door.
“Zhiyou, the porridge is ready. Drink it while it’s hot,” Yu Gui said, putting down the ladle and hanging the apron behind the door. She grabbed her bag and changed her shoes, getting ready for work. The person lying in bed remained still, just as she had been since returning from handling Mother Fang’s affairs.
Yu Gui let out a soft sigh and gently closed the bedroom door.
Fang Zhiyou, lying in bed, gently closed her eyes, tears streaming down her face.
Gu Yanzhi didn’t know what they talked about, but when the old man came out, his face was “as dark as iron” (meaning extremely angry). He had just left when the life monitor started beeping.
Gu Yanzhi rushed in and hit the call button: “Someone, come quickly!”
“Qingshi, Qingshi!” During the emergency, she held her hand tightly, calling her name until half an hour later when her vital signs stabilized.
Gu Yanzhi let out a sigh of relief, kneeling by the bed and pressing her face to her hand, “Don’t scare me, don’t scare me…”
Lu Qingshi’s fingers felt a bit warm, and she moved slightly, her touch barely brushing across her face.
Yu Gui inserted the IV needle into her skin and secured it with tape, “Teacher Lu, we’ll step out now, you two can talk.”
“Don’t take too long, just ten minutes,” Chen Yi said, as she placed the oxygen mask back on her to help with her low blood oxygen.
Lu Qingshi nodded slightly, her hair damp with sweat from the emergency, clinging tightly to her forehead.
“Thank you.”
The group pushed the medical cart and filed out in a line. Hao Renjie nudged Yu Gui, “How’s the situation with your family?”
Yu Gui shook her head, “I’ll pay you back next month after I get my salary.”
“No need, just find me a few pretty chicks or dudes”.
“Get lost!” Yu Gui elbowed him in the stomach, and Hao Renjie jumped back in pain.
No matter what, the fact that Teacher Lu could wake up was the best news they had these days.
It had been a long time since she felt this relaxed.
Qin Xuan finished the whiskey in her glass, took off her coat, and got on stage, swaying her hips freely to the music.
“Lights and wine” (meaning the dazzling nightlife scene), the pounding beats shook hearts, it was like paradise in the mortal world.
Xiang Nanke shook her head with a smile, pushing the empty glass back to the counter: “Another Long Island Iced Tea, and I’ll cover that lady’s tab from earlier.”
“Certainly, that’ll be 6,482 in total.”
Xiang Nanke swiped her card without batting an eye. Qin Xuan jumped off the stage, glittering beads of sweat on her forehead.
“My, Officer Xiang is being quite generous today.”
“Haven’t I always been generous?” Xiang Nanke leaned lazily against the bar, taking in her perfect makeup, alluring eyeliner, sequined crop top, matching leather pants, and high heels – seductive yet tasteful – a completely different style from when she wore her white doctor’s coat.
She narrowed her eyes slightly, naturally recalling everything that happened in the tent that day.
“Are you f*cking crazy? I told you I’m straight, straighter than the Eiffel Tower, got it?!”
She “snorted in derision” (showed contempt): “Straight women don’t react to contact with the same sex.”
Qin Xuan snorted even harder. Having been an OB-GYN for so many years, she prided herself on seeing all types of women, and she dealt with “that thing” (referring to female anatomy) every day – she understood women better than women themselves.
“That’s bull. Plenty of people make sounds during my gynecological bimanual exams, are you saying they’re all gay?”
“Others maybe not, but you…”
The last syllable dissolved into a lingering kiss. At first, it was about “matching wits” (competing out of spite), but later…
Bodies intertwined, burning breaths, suggestive moans…
She was pinned to the bed by an amateur, her feet stepped on, hands bound above her head, and brought to climax through a gynecological examination technique.
Qin Xuan swore it was absolutely the most humiliating day of her life.
Even after all this time, forget about meeting face-to-face, she didn’t even want to hear her voice. Yet this person was like a lingering ghost, following her everywhere she went.
She felt irritation and anger, while the other remained consistently calm.
Fine, she’d just treat it as an exotic one-night stand experience – after all, the other person wasn’t bad-looking, had decent technique, and she’d gotten her pleasure too.
Qin Xuan consoled herself this way, but upon catching the other’s gaze, she exploded in anger: “F*ck you…”
The other’s eyes were glued to her low-cut top. Xiang Nanke turned her face away, holding her wine glass: “If you wear it out, it’s meant to be seen.”
Qin Xuan was furious beyond words, but before she could speak, her phone on the bar counter started vibrating, with “Old Bao” flashing on the screen.
She glanced at Nanke, silently walked a bit further away before answering: “Hello?”
The music was deafeningly loud, and Bao Fengnian put his phone on speaker: “Where are you partying now? I just got back from Yunnan today, want me to pick you up?”
Qin Xuan casually named a place, but instinctively declined: “No… no need… I’m with some colleagues, it wouldn’t be convenient if you came.”
“Alright,” Bao Fengnian responded, as another voice came from his side: “Boss Bao…”
“Okay then, that’s that. I’ve got to go now, let’s meet another day,” he hurriedly hung up, leaving Qin Xuan feeling lost and empty.
When she had been at her lowest and most exhausted, he wasn’t by her side. Yet when the dust had settled and things were calm, he would appear – she wondered if it was just coincidence?
So coincidental that he was never there whenever she needed him most.
Qin Xuan put down her phone, and someone moved closer, gently wrapping an arm around her shoulders, her breath as fragrant as orchids near her ear: “So, want to give it a try with me?”
She certainly knew what kind of “try” was being suggested – adults didn’t need elaborate explanations.
Qin Xuan met her gaze and smiled softly, captivating everyone.
Xiang Nanke thought she had a chance: “My car’s right outside…”
As soon as she finished speaking, a glass of whiskey drenched her from head to toe, chilling to the bone.
Qin Xuan set down her glass, grabbed her coat and left: “Bartender, she’s paying for today.”
Xiang Nanke wiped the liquor from her face, the burn in her throat matching the drink’s intensity, her lips curling into an intriguing smile.
“I’ll pay.”
“Love is a superfluous thing to me. I don’t have time to romance women. I consider it a weakness of human nature…” In the dim room, only a warm yellow desk lamp was lit. The book lay flat on her lap as her fingertips gently turned the pages. Gu Yanzhi’s voice was pleasant, deep and magnetic.
She thought if she ever quit being a firefighter, she could definitely become a radio host.
Lu Qingshi lay on the hospital bed, slightly turning her head to look at her.
Her hair had grown a bit longer, still naturally wavy. With her high nose bridge and upward-curved brows, she possessed a wild beauty unlike typical women. She sat there looking somewhat docile and focused, displaying unconscious little habits while reading – occasionally touching her nose or scratching her chin.
Lu Qingshi was so deeply absorbed in watching that she belatedly noticed her voice had stopped, leaving only the sound of wind turning book pages in the hospital room.
“What… what is it?” Her speech was still not quite smooth, her voice raspy.
Gu Yanzhi looked up at her, speaking with an almost reverent tone: “While sixpence lay scattered all over the ground, he looked up and saw the moon” (reference to Somerset Maugham’s quote about choosing between material wealth and spiritual pursuit).
The moment she softly uttered these words, no one spoke, and she didn’t continue reading either. They just quietly gazed at each other.
There were too many things to say, a lifetime wouldn’t be enough to say them all.
Outside the window, the moon rose, and the fragrance of roses permeated the air.
Gu Yanzhi put down the book and quietly walked over.
When was the last time Lu Qingshi cried?
It was when she hugged her in the tunnel.
At that moment, her heart was filled with the joy of surviving a catastrophe, along with some unnamed feelings.
During her time with Gu Yanzhi, she had felt these subtle emotions many times, but never as intensely as this moment.
Someone’s palm gently covered her eyes.
The kiss on her forehead through the back of the hand and her wildly beating heart reminded her:
She had come alive again.
It was a different way of living from her previous life of “following the prescribed steps” (idiom meaning living life strictly by the rules).
“Hey, what have you been up to lately? Finally decided to come online?” As soon as she logged into the game interface, Shangshianruishui sent the message.
Fang Zhiyou typed a string of ellipses.
“Alright, seems you’re in a bad mood. Come on, big sister will take you to wreak havoc in the battlefield.”
The two of them – one a white-robed swordsman and one a red-robed healer – “fought until heaven and earth turned dark” (idiom meaning fought intensely) on the battlefield, leaving not even a piece of armor behind.
As the time in the game gradually turned to night, the sky outside also slowly darkened.
Fang Zhiyou lit a cigarette, curled up in her chair until she finished it, then pressed the butt into the ashtray.
“My mom died,” the young person said coldly, then sat down cross-legged right where they were.
The girl danced in circles before her: “Let me show you some fireworks.”
“Bang—pop!” Massive fireworks rose before their eyes, brilliant as shooting stars, quickly streaking across the sky before vanishing without a trace.
Fang Zhiyou suddenly understood her meaning, covered her face with her hands, and silently wept.
Whether life is good or bad, successful or failed, rich or poor… everyone will gradually move toward death, just like these fireworks – brilliant for a moment but destined to fade. This is the natural law that no one can escape, the cycle of heaven and earth.
On the third day that Lu Qingshi could speak, Lu Xucheng brought a group of people to the hospital room, and the nurse helped raise her wheeled bed.
She tilted her head slightly while looking at her scans – there was a tumor not completely removed deep in her brainstem, lying in her body like a time bomb.
Lu Qingshi’s lips curved into a cynical smile; she knew no one could perform this surgery, including her grandfather.
“Well, since Director Lu already understands her condition, let’s cut to the chase,” the neurosurgeon rubbed his hands together somewhat shyly. “It’s like this – surely Director Lu has heard of the da Vinci surgical robot? It can perform complex surgeries through minimally invasive methods, especially effective in neurosurgical applications…”
The sales representative from Changsheng Biological Pharmaceutical Co., wearing a temporary visitor’s badge, quickly “followed the vine to get to the melon” (idiom meaning to follow a lead): “Our company’s surgical robot has passed clinical trials overseas, and our researchers have made modifications based on Asian characteristics. Compared to the American da Vinci, it’s safer, less invasive, and faster in operation…”
Lu Xucheng sat formally in his chair, his cane propped in front of him, not even glancing at her, expressionlessly listening to them talk like a flowing river.
Lu Qingshi gripped the sheets tightly: “Get out!”
They paused: “Director Lu, what did you say?”
Lu Qingshi suddenly lifted her head, ripping the IV needle from the back of her hand. The glass cup on the bedside table went flying, smashing violently against the wall, water splashing everywhere.
“Get out!”
After shouting those words, she collapsed heavily back down, breathing in large gasps, beads of sweat like soybeans forming on her forehead. The pain made her entire body curl up into itself, and the vital signs on the life monitor began to fluctuate unstably again.
The nurse pressed a cotton ball against her bleeding hand, and several doctors rushed over.
Lu Xucheng let out a heavy cold snort and led the way out, never looking back once as medical staff ran past him for the emergency.
The housekeeper called out sympathetically: “Old Master, Young Miss, she…”
Lu Xucheng waved his hand, signaling her not to continue. Only then did she notice that the old man’s “clouded eyes” (indicating aged, weary eyes) had quietly become moist at some point.
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